


pray with me

by dreadwyrmspawn



Series: Where The Heart Is [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Domestic Bliss, Fluff, Jack Kline as God, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwyrmspawn/pseuds/dreadwyrmspawn
Summary: cas and dean pray to jack for help one last time.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Where The Heart Is [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093442
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	pray with me

"What's this then?"

The question barely registered with Claire as she turns to find Chelsea, one of Jody's newest runaways, reaching for a small vial on the mantle above the fireplace.

"Don't touch that!" Claire warns as she frantically reaches out to still the new girl's hands. 

"Oh, alright," Chelsea says as she stuffs her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, "it sure is pretty."

Inside a small shadow box sat a vial, blue-white light dancing within. It swirled with a purpose, as if it were alive. 

"What is it?" 

Claire looks past Chelsea, through the large bay window looking out to the garden. Castiel is up to his waste in tomato bushes, looking for the perfect ones for today's sandwich lunch. 

The back door squeals on its hinges and soon Dean appears by his side, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. Claire didn't have to hear the conversation to know how it went. 

'We're all starvin', babe. Just pick one already.'

'Dean, if it's not perfectly ripe you'll be the first to complain.' 

'I'm not gonna eat the damn things anyway.' 

And, yeah, there it is. Castiel's head tilts to the side and his eyes roll. Claire had seen that look plenty of times herself. 

"It's a promise," Claire finally speaks up, tearing her attention away from her embarrassing gay dads to look back at Chelsea, "a promise to grow old together." 

"A bit sappy, eh?" Chelsea asks with a laugh. 

"Absolutely. They wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this, Cas?” Dean asked as he laced their fingers together. 

They stood together in the living room of their new home. The wallpaper was peeling, and hanging off the plaster walls. None of the furniture matched. And sitting in the center was a fireplace, the red brick stained black from a century of soot.

Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s, small shallow breaths mixing in the air between them. Blue eyes slid closed as a small smile tugged at his lips, “I am,” he said at length, followed by a gentle squeeze of Dean’s hand, “pray with me.”

Dean nodded and his eyes, too, slipped closed.

_ Jack, I hope you can hear us and are doing well. Hands off as you may be, there is one more selfish request your old family has of you. If you can, spare us one last brief moment of your time. _

Green and blue fluttered open when the room was filled with the familiar rush of feathered wings. The pair stepped apart, but their hands remained locked and folded together.

“Castiel, Dean,” Jack said as he nodded at both of them. There was an age etched on his face now, and Castiel knew his son had been busy traveling through many futures. A sheppard to the many timelines that laid ahead, nurturing their paths in his hands.

“Jack! How’s it hangin’, man?” Dean asked as he reached out with his free hand to slap at the god’s shoulder.

Castiel looked over at his husband, smiling softly at the nervous energy that was pouring out of him. 

Jack smiled fondly at them both, “the repairs to heaven are going as planned, it’s all going well.” He nodded, and the smile grew bright and Castiel saw a brief moment of the son he used to have; the one who tore into the Empty with Dean, one last time. 

“Jack, I need to ask—” 

“This is about your Grace, isn’t it?” Jack laughed when all he got in answer were stares, “All I was hearing from both of you was prayers about the state of it.”

“You’ve been praying about my Grace?” Castiel almost sounded bemused, and Dean’s brow scrunched at the mere accusation.

“Of course I have! This is a big deal!”

“You don’t need to worry, Castiel. Fading as it may be, it should still last another hundred years here on Earth.” Jack replied, answering to all the unsaid prayers.

“I don’t want it to last.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s why we asked you here, I don’t want my Grace anymore.”

“I see,” Jack paused, thought lost for a moment, “I will remove it then.”

Dean pulled away from his husband and turned toward the mantle of the fireplace, retrieving the small knife and vial. Castiel sat down in one of the mismatched armchairs, and lifted his chin in confidence. Their gaze never broke, even when Castiel winced at the pain burning his sliced throat. The wound was healed a moment later, the blue white light of his Grace dancing in the vial in his son’s hand.

Then there were two vials, one larger and one smaller. Castiel felt his chest crack at the sight of it split. Though he couldn’t physically feel it anymore, his instinct still ached. Emotion welled somewhere primal, pushing hot tears unknowingly down his face.

“Cas?” Dean dropped to the arm of the cair, swiping at the tears, “why are you— we can put it back.” Dean scrambled for vials, but only managed to wrap his fingers around the smaller bottle. Jack curled his fingers around the remaining one, and held it tight to his chest. “What the hell— Jack?!”

Castiel dug his fingers into his knee, his nails digging into the skin, sending dull pain signals through his skin. “It’s OK, Dean, I’m OK.” His voice came out hushed as exhaustion washed over him. He suddenly wanted to sleep for a week.

“I will take this one back to Heaven with me,” Jack explained as he held the vial up. Castiel felt his chest lurch again at the sight of it. The hole cut in his soul burned at the amputation, “that one is enough Grace if Castiel would ever want to return to Heaven before his own death.”

Dean looked down at the vial in his hand as he listened to Jack. Castiel reached out a shaking hand to cover Dean’s, hiding the blue light from view. He felt the warmth from the bottle rush into him and his pained soul was put at ease. He knew the way he would accept the Grace back in his body would be at Dean’s own death. He pushed that thought away for now, other questions more important.

“What will you do with my Grace, Jack?”

“The Host’s ranks are still quite slim, I think it’s time to create more angels. This time with this flawed Grace as blueprint.”

Tears were fresh down Castiel’s face again as he yanked Dean down into his lap, his arms tightening around his waist as he pressed the side of his face into Dean’s chest. The only sound the quickening of the heartbeat reverberating through his core as Dean carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

Castiel kept his eyes shut as he heard his son take a few muted steps toward him. Fingers hooked under his chin, forcing him to look up. “Your father commanded angels to love humanity, I think it’s time they lived up to that.”

A blink of the eye and Jack was gone. Castiel and Dean left alone in the living room with its peeling wallpaper and mismatched furniture. A yawn pushed itself through Castiel and he let his eyes fall shut again.


End file.
